


Radioactive

by Marcie (mtoops001)



Series: Radioactive [1]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: A Good Amount of Non Canon, Angst, Bisexual F!LW, Blood and Gore, But Will Follow Major Storyline and Quests, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtoops001/pseuds/Marcie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat does what she can to retain her humanity in a cold and indifferent Wasteland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gob

###  **GOB.**

The door creaked and Gob's eyes didn't leave the spot on the counter that he was wiping down. He’s mastered his peripheral vision by this point; Moriarty's temper only ever worsened whenever Gob made eye contact. But it couldn't be him—whoever had come in was far too quiet. 

“Gob?” He thinks he heard her voice again. Instantly, his head yanks upward. It was her. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words he had planned for her had escaped him. He almost believed it was better to stay silent, as if any sound would shatter the illusion. But when he opened his mouth again, he was able to articulate a sentence in a soft, trembling voice, “Cat, I thought... you were dead.” 

Cat always had visible injuries, but even more so after her month-long trip. Her longest absence yet. She sported a few gaping lacerations on her arms, especially her right one. Her bottom lip was swollen and there was a large, fading bruise on her right cheek. It was adorned with a nasty gash that was most likely going to become a permanent scar. 

The girl's face was a mixture of shame and bashfulness, both uncharacteristic for her. She brushed her fingertips over her wounded cheek and glanced away self-consciously. Gob realized he had been looking her over too intently. He cleared his throat, the best apology he could muster. 

Cat looked back after a brief moment. "Is Moriarty here?" When he shook his head, she walked around the counter and hugged him feebly. 

His throat tightened. She felt so cold. Gob clumsily returned the embrace. He was confused—this whole exchange had been so unusually joyless. 

She pulled back after a few second, looking at him. He blinked back. "Do you know who Charon is?" Cat asked, rather hastily. 

The name sounded familiar. He thought for a moment and said, "From—Yeah. Why?” 

She swallowed hard. “I paid Ahzrukhal for him.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

Gob was speechless. His face stung as if he had been slapped. If he had skin, it would have been red with anger. “You know what he is, right?” He hissed suddenly. “You know that whole 'employer' thing is bullshit, right?” 

Cat's face flooded with shame. Gob almost wanted to apologize at the sight, but kept his mouth clamped shut. He couldn’t remember ever being mad at her like this. 

“I would have died without him,” she began to explain, but her voice trailed off. 

He felt hot tears welling in his eyes and wiped them away hurriedly. Gob believed her, but it didn’t make her feel better. He couldn’t forget the slavers that tied him like a Brahmin and only referred to him as an “it.” The past 15 years Moriarty has owned him. "He's a slave," he reiterated. 

Her eyes widened at the word, blurry with tears. Gob had never used it aloud with her before. Maybe it helped him feel better, as if he could convince her that he could truly pay off his debt. 

But they both knew what he was. 

"I know—" Cat whimpered, pausing to take a shuddering breath before continuing. "Gob, there were so many super mutants. I was lucky to have made it to underworld alive. I couldn't have made it back on my own." When he didn't answer, she insisted: "I tried to give him his own contract and he wouldn't take it." 

Gob finally sighed. "I believe you, kid," he says wearily. His tone was still gruff, but his expression had softened. He reached out gingerly to touch her mutilated arm. "I was worried about you.” 

Cat wipes her own tears with her free hand. They were the only two in here, but now the silence in the bar was beginning to feel more comfortable. She attempted a faint smile. “I met Carol." 

He didn't know whether to smile or cry. "How is she?" He whispered hoarsely.

"She's happy, Gob—she and Greta." Cat's eyes were a little brighter now. She clasped Gob's hands earnestly in her own. "She wanted me to tell you that she misses her son and that she loves you dearly." 

"Did you tell her...?" He began to say, but he knew he didn't have to finish his sentence. 

"No—no. I told her you were a bartender in Megaton—she was really excited for you." 

Her voice lowered when she said the word, "bartender." He was grateful that she didn't say anything more.

Gob breathed a sigh of relief. About everything. He squeezed back Cat's hands affectionately. Not a lot of smoothskins touched him, other than to hit him. _Were they all this soft?_

"Go to sleep, kid." He said finally. "You need it. You look like shit." 

Cat nodded, half smiling. "Yeah. Okay." The girl hesitated and then stepped forward to wrap her arms around Gob again. Her head was buried into his shoulder as she mumbled her usual goodbye: "I'll be back soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time posting on AO3! I love Fallout 3 and have time to work on a series now that I'm on summer break. If you have any suggestions/requests or constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it and will definitely keep it in mind. :-) ♥


	2. As You Wish

###  **CAT.**

There was a comfortable stillness at four in the morning that Cat needed. Wadsworth knew to leave her be until around breakfast time at about dawn. It gave her to time to get… accustomed. 

There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t wonder if Dad might be already dead. She shuddered at the thought, but it didn’t panic her like it used to. It was as if she were almost used to it.

Her breath was forming little condensation clouds. She glanced down at her Pip-Boy. 4:06 A.M., 56°F. Cat enjoyed the cold at this time—feeling numb calmed her. She liked to start her day on her roof, breathing in the air. Everything was so quiet and peaceful before the sun rose. 

Still, it felt strange to carry on with her morning routine while Charon waited in his room. He didn’t seem to sleep; from what she could recall from their few days of traveling together, he would always insist to take watch whenever they sat down to rest. When she’d wake up, he’d still be sitting vigilantly over their campsite. Cat was sure that today wouldn’t be any different.

She decided it would be polite to at least invite him to join her. He’d just spent the night at his new employer’s home, presumably his permanent home until she thought of a way to convince him to take his own contract. For all Cat knew, he could have been staring at a wall all night. Charon always seemed to just… wait for his next command.

Cat hoisted herself down from the small opening to the roof with some difficulty. Her arms trembled noticeably from supporting her entire body weight; she hadn’t realized the toll the past few days had taken on her body. There was never a time Cat didn’t ache when she returned from her travels, but she also wasn’t forced to engage hostiles so often either. The metros and downtown DC were too narrow to hide as often as she usually did. Looking back on it, it was a miracle she survived at all.

“Good morning, Madame!” A familiar voice piped.

She smiled at Wadsworth as amicably as she could. Cat understood that Mister Handy butlers were programmed to serve, but she always felt that Wadsworth was one of her first close friends in the Wasteland. He was observant and always seemed to be eager to see her.

“Good morning,” Cat said. She noted his mechanical limbs fidgeting slightly as he hovered in place. Like Andy, Wadsworth tended to get restless when his own routines were interrupted, and right now the ghoul in the room was preventing him from his regular tidying. She sidled up to the room—his room, she reminded herself—and gives a few quiet knocks. 

The door opens nearly immediately. Cat looks up at the ghoul standing before her, somewhat sheepishly. Technically, Charon was her first guest in this house. She didn’t quite know how to go about interacting with him in a casual setting, but Cat had to learn. They were roommates now, after all.

“Yes?” He rasps. Charon seemed about as uncomfortable as she felt.

Suddenly she considers the possibility that she might be bothering him, but it was too late. “I-I was wondering if you wanted to join me outside? Unless you were busy or…”

“As you wish,” he says automatically.

She clenched her jaw a bit, but managed to force a smile regardless. Cat hated when he said that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I keep going with the different POV every chapter style or switch to third person omniscient? Also, I have two more chapters already finished, in case anybody liked the first two! Will post the next two after some minor edits tomorrow! Please comment with any suggestions you may have to improve the story (even if there's not much of one just yet). 
> 
> Also, I want to get to the fighting already!! But I guess I like the Post Apocalyptic Slice of Life: Domestic Life™ more than I thought?? But trust me, there will *also* be plenty of violence on a regular basis ♥ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	3. Rituals

###  **CHARON.**

The kid was his strangest employer yet, and the only one so far to offer him his freedom. Only nineteen, tiny, and inexperienced in battle, he was astounded that she had survived this long in the first place. Charon guessed it was her patience that helped. She was meticulous and observant, and wasn’t ashamed to hide from her enemies—even if it took hours until she felt safe enough to leave. 

Her name was Catherine, she’d told him. But she wanted her friends to call her Cat. She was also the first employer he’d ever had that even implied that their relationship was anything close to a friendship.

“You should hold your knife further away from you,” he said gruffly. Normally, he didn’t care to speak but Cat seemed to appreciate his input, especially when she was training.

“Oh,” she said. She seemed slightly embarrassed, but grateful for the tip. The kid resumed swiping at her invisible foe with a more solid stance.

Cat liked to train every morning, apparently, whether she was at home or not. He guessed she had already seen some results since she’d picked up the habit. She was small, but her limbs were toned and had somewhat defined muscles.

The girl was a quick learner, too. Within a few days, she already seemed to be more mindful of how she fought. When he met her, her only skills were hiding and running; she also wasted a tremendous amount of ammo on single enemies.

She cycled through the same routine, he’d noticed. She did some strength-building exercises like push-ups and however many strained pull-ups she could manage, but Cat seemed to be more fond of more natural movements. The kid seemed to be especially interested in cardio, always using the machine on her arm to time how long or long she could do laps. She also enjoyed scaling walls or rubble, trying to make it more fluid and effortless each time she attempted it. Charon saw the use in these exercises, but also encouraged her to take time to practice her aim and close combat skills. The latter was more daunting to her—Cat didn’t quite want to consider it an option, but knew it was necessary.

The sky was starting to lighten as the sun crept above the horizon. Cat seemed to use this as some sort of cue every morning. Still red-faced and glistening with sweat, she unpacks her weapons. A knife, a small machete, her 10mm pistol, and (what seemed to be her pride and joy), a weathered sniper rifle she’d purchased just recently. She liked to take her guns apart and clean each part individually, almost lovingly, before starting on breakfast.

He watched her quietly. Cat was an especially nervous, albeit friendly, person. But she seemed to be most serene during her morning rituals. Whatever plagued her upon waking or throughout the day didn’t seem to affect her now.

Charon understood.

The rituals were all she could do to stay sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like... two or three more chapters before we get to the traveling again! I can't wait for Cat to find Dogmeat already! This is the first fanfic I've ever actually kept up on and it's as hard as I imagined to get the plot moving; I love to focus on the small details too much. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )


	4. Purified Water

###  **CAT.**

It was nice to be back in Megaton, Cat thought. Some days, she felt as if this place could be… home. The word elicits a dull ache from her chest. No matter how much she wanted that to be true, her home was still only a fading memory—life in the vault with her dad and Amata and even Butch. 

The pot of purified water on the stove had finally come to a boil. Cat turned off the gas and blew out the flame. In the Wasteland, it was almost inevitable to smell bad. Clean water was difficult to come by to stay alive, let alone to bathe. Soap was also exceptionally costly whenever a caravan actually even _had_ any. But whenever she was home, cleanliness was worth the effort. Cat noticed people seemed more generous to her whenever she’d wiped off her sweat and the grime of the Wasteland.

She used rags and a small portion of her soap to give herself a sort of sponge bath. It was the easiest way to conserve her purified water while still making a difference. Normally, she’d just clean up in the kitchen—she didn’t think Wadsworth cared about or was shocked by a naked human body—but with Charon around, she suddenly felt coy.

Cat turned to see the ghoul’s eyes fixed on her. Feeling the need to explain, she said, “To bathe,” in reference to the pot.

He nodded once, silent as usual. She suddenly realized his previous employer probably didn’t care whatsoever about Charon’s comfort. Cat doubted that he was ever allowed the luxury of warm water. 

“I think there’s, um, enough for both of us?” She suggests meekly. The girl extends a small hand to offer one of her cloth rags she used as a sponge. 

Charon nods again, probably interpreting that as a command. He takes the rag and immediately begins to shrug out of his armor and shirt. Cat flushes instantly at the sight, too flustered to speak right away. When he looks down at her again, he seems to notice her red cheeks and wide eyes fixed on the exposed muscle tissue of his chest. He pauses.

“I, uh—I’ll give you some privacy,” she blurts desperately. “I’ll be in my room for a few minutes.” She presses a small piece of soap into his rough hand and turns to leave hurriedly. 

He watches her retreating figure with some confusion, but soon resumes undressing. Charon might not be the most socially adept ghoul, but he understood that his bare body was quick to anger smoothskins. Although… There had been no disgust or anger in Cat’s eyes then.

Charon couldn’t understand her, but he knew she was different. The Wasteland hadn’t hardened her yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated a bit with the perspective at the end but making single POV chapters is difficult! I like it, though; at least for right now, especially considering how Charon was always a mystery. I already have the next chapter ready to post and I'm currently working on the one after that; but I was thinking about waiting a few hours before posting so this fic can stay on the front page a while longer.


	5. Gifts

###  **CHARON.**

“What are you thinking about getting?”

Cat’s voice almost startled him. His attention shifted back to his employer. She was half-smiling at him; although it was somewhat forced, he could tell she meant well. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered honestly. Seeing her expression fall a bit, he added, “Whatever you’re having.”

The answer seemed to make her happy. Cat turns to the blonde woman in front of the refrigerator and said, “Hi Jenny” with a smile. “Can I get two radscorpion egg omelettes and two mirelurk cakes? And some Nuka Colas too, please.” She appears to think for a moment and specifies, “Nuka Cherries, if you have any.”

“I’ll go check inside, hun.” The young woman said pleasantly. “Celebrating?”

Cat shrugs. “Just happy to be back in town.”

Jenny nods eagerly before heading indoors; Charon guessed she was excited about the order. Radscorpion eggs didn’t come cheap, he knew. He’d never even tasted a Nuka Cherry either. They were probably imported from somewhere outside of the Capitol Wasteland, likely through multiple caravans.

Cat tinkered with the screen on her arm. He had always wondered what it was but she’d never offered any explanation as to its use. Occasionally, she looked at it and seemed to use it to decide when to drink some RadAway. He supposed that was pretty important to smoothskins. He also caught glimpses of a map that she referenced regularly, although considering his time spent in the Wasteland, one was hardly necessary for him. Overall, the machine looked to be rather useful for her. Her favorite use for it was its radio; she liked to hum and occasionally mumble the words to the music. Charon thought it was the only thing keeping her from being mind-numbingly bored on the road. 

He studied her while she was momentarily distracted. He’d never seen her without her armor. A rosy pre-war dress clung to her small frame, with only a holster and her pistol reminding him that they still lived in a post apocalyptic world. Her brown hair was brushed smooth and flowed freely down her back, a change from the braid she donned during their travels. The blonde woman hadn’t commented on a change of appearance, so Charon assumed this was typical of her when she was home. 

The girl turned off the screen abruptly and her dark eyes met his. She’d caught him off guard, but Cat wasn’t the type who minded a ghoul looking at her, if only briefly. 

“That was Jenny Stahl. She and her two brothers own the place.” Cat explained, trying to make small talk. He didn’t care about them, but he always tried to listen attentively to whatever she said. “I like to come here for breakfast sometimes—especially since nobody’s really at the booth at this time.” 

He didn’t know how to answer that, but he nodded earnestly. 

“It can get pretty expensive, I guess. But the Stahls must have a good thing going with a caravan. Somehow they have a steady supply of mutfruits and deathclaw eggs.” The girl continued on, a bit more passionately. Charon made a mental note of his employer’s appreciation of rare foods. “At least she gives me discounts. And free coffee.” She grinned at that, somewhat mischievously.

Huh. Charon didn’t exactly think of her as a flirtatious person. 

He must not have hidden his surprise well, because Cat looked stunned. Then, just as abruptly, she burst into laughter. Her laugh was soft and lively and… pleasing. Charon found himself at a loss for words from her reaction.

“What, you don’t think I can charm a pretty girl?” Cat asks, half joking. He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but she waved a hand in understanding. “Yeah, I know I don’t seem like a Casanova. But I can be fairly charismatic sometimes.”

Jenny returned, holding a tray of food and their drinks. “You were in luck!” She says happily, placing Cat’s Nuka Cherry in front of her. “These are on the house.” Jenny briefly caresses Cat’s arm with a coquettish smile; once she turned to start divvying up their meals, Cat sneaks a wink at him. Cocky, he thought, almost with amusement.

After Cat’s heartfelt expression of gratitude, Jenny turned to Charon. “Now I know I haven’t seen you before. Are you just visiting?”

“… No.” He answered flatly. “I live here now.”

Cat tried to suppress a smile. Jenny also seemed to find his straight-forwardness a bit endearing, even if she was noticeably off-put by his face. “Oh! Well, welcome to Megaton then!”

Jenny went back inside with the pretext of some organizational duties, but Charon guessed he’d probably made her a bit uncomfortable. At least she wasn’t hostile to him. There would be the periodic smoothskin that seemed unfazed or at least tolerated him, but he was used to more adverse reactions; uneasy looks were the least of his concerns.

The girl had already taken a bite out of her mirelurk cake and hums happily. “This so beats cram,” is all she manages to say before taking another mouthful.

Charon looks down at his own plate. The omelette was cut neatly, although a bit small. When he cuts a piece with his fork, he’s amazed to see real Brahmin cheese; not like that Blanco Mac shit. The cake still smelled like dirty water, but it was baked.

Suddenly the ghoul is filled with discomfort. This felt… wrong. Suddenly, he rasps, “You don’t need to keep paying me. Buying my contract is enough.”

Cat looks surprised for a second, but she thought quickly. “It’s—not payment.” She uncapped her Nuka Cherry and takes a nonchalant sip. “It’s… a gift.”

He doesn’t know what to say. That didn’t seem to be against The Rules. Charon looked hesitantly at his meal. Why did he feel more comfortable eating two hundred year old food and wild dog meat? To wait silently until he was commanded to do otherwise? 

Charon finally uncaps his Cola too. Maybe he could think of gifts as commands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd post the next chapter in a couple of hours so it is! After this, Cat and Charon are back out on the road and I force myself to stop indulging myself with Mild Fluff and start busting out the good ol' Angst. ;)


	6. A Standing Order

###  **CAT.**

Seven. Seven pills left. Cat grimaced at her desk before sweeping the mentats back into their tin. _I need that addictol soon. Gotta pay a visit to Silver today._

When she leaves her room, she sees Charon sitting on the couch in his new room. He’s waiting. Cat feels slightly guilty—she doesn’t want to leave him here to stare at his wall, but she didn’t exactly feel like introducing her new bodyguard to her chem dealer just yet. At least back in the Ninth Circle, Charon had a purpose. Even if it was just to stand in the corner and make sure no customers were getting too trashed.

“Well, that was fun,” Cat announces. “But now we’re broke, for the most part.”

That wasn’t true. She still had a hundred and twelve caps. It wasn’t a whole lot, but she was saving the bulk of that for addictol or more mentats so technically they didn’t have any more caps to spend.

Her sniper had been quite the expensive purchase, but most of her caps had gone towards med-x and addictol (and stimpaks, whenever she didn’t have the materials to make her own). The med-x and mentats she could find sneaking around raider’s campsites and on corpses. Addictol was rare, though, and she always wanted to be sure to have one or the other to avoid withdrawal symptoms. Cat couldn’t afford to get sick in the wasteland, and she couldn’t see herself functioning in battle without med-x.

“I’m going to go out and try to make some caps before we can head to Rivet City. We’re too low on stimpaks or ammo to make it there safely.” Cat says, pulling her worn leather armor over her undershirt.

Charon stood up to follow her automatically. He was already wearing his armor.

She balks. Hadn’t expected him to assume he was going, but there must be a way she could take a detour at some point. Not a big deal. Plus, she’d feel safer with him in the Wasteland. “I was going to go hunt some yao guai or mole rats or something. Pretty much any pelts and meat are valuable. It’s an easy way to make caps.” Cat knelt to double tie the shoelaces on her boot. “We’ll split the caps.”

The ghoul frowns. “I told you. I don’t need more payment—”

“I only paid for your services in combat,” Cat interrupts firmly. “The way I see it, this kind of work isn’t relevant to my immediate survival. I stick close to Megaton so I’ve never _really_ been in a dangerous situation.”

He glowers stubbornly, but she ignores him to tie her other boot.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Charon. We’re splitting the caps— _that’s_ an order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be the chapter where they were finally out traveling but it started getting too long! So I divided it up. The next chapter should be the longest one thus far. Thanks for the kudos so far everybody!!!! :)


	7. Jet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and subsequent chapters) may get a bit gory? I mean, I know it's Fallout but I just wanted to warn you lmao

###  **CAT.**

She still regretted being so harsh with Charon, but it was still better than taking every cap he earned like a slaver. 

After Wadsworth had dispensed his five bottles worth of purified water, Cat said her goodbyes to her mechanical butler and they went on their way to Craterside Supply. 

She guessed that Charon wouldn’t be particularly thrilled by Moira’s eccentric, bubbly nature. But at least he was patient. 

When they walked through the door, Moira immediately abandoned the book in her hands. The cover was a familiar one. It wasn’t uncommon for the storekeeper to reread any of her books—they were scarce in the Wasteland, after all. 

“Catherine!” Moira exclaimed with a genuine smile. “You’re back!” 

Cat didn’t know why she insisted on calling her by her real name but it didn’t really bother her. “Hey, Moira. This is Charon.” She gestures towards the ghoul standing beside her. 

Moira’s eyes light up. She leans over the counter to get a better look at the ghoul, her face only a few inches from his. He stares back vacantly as she examines him up close. “Charon! Would you be interested in helping me write my book? ‘The Wasteland Survival Guide’ would definitely help more people if I included a ghoul’s perspective!” 

He glances unsurely at his employer, who just shrugs. “… Yes.” 

Moira was elated. The woman was fascinated with the creatures of the Wasteland, ghouls included. It was something Cat truly admired about her. Moira might not risk her life to study the Wasteland, but she was certainly sacrificing caps and her own time to put together this book. 

Cat clears her throat. “So, now that I’m back, I was thinking about picking up where we left off. I was going to go check out that Super Duper Mart you told me about.” 

Moira is quick to express her excitement. Cat already knows where the place is, but she lets Moira mark it on her map just to humor her. The woman was fascinated by her Pip-Boy and jumped at any opportunity to look at it. After some sincere well-wishing, she turns back to rummage through some papers on the counter. Probably looking for something to write down whatever ideas she’d already thought of for her ghoul friend. 

As Cat turns to leave, she catches the eye of the mercenary by the door. He’s glaring at Charon as he passes by. Moira is entirely oblivious, happily scribbling away on a scrap of paper, but _she_ catches it. Cat scowls back resentfully. 

“You better keep that pet ghoul of yours on a tight leash,” he hisses, just loud enough for them to hear. 

Charon stares ahead, unaffected. He was probably used to it by now, but Cat was fuming. She bites her tongue and storms out before she starts a fight.

###  **CHARON.**

The dim yellow sun hung in the sky, baking the earth. The smoothskin wasn’t handling it well. She’d slipped out of her armor and unzipped her jumpsuit down to her waist, letting the fabric to hang loose to lounge in her undershirt. Cat was onto her second bottle of water, taking frequent sips as she skinned a mole rat (their second). 

The ghoul resumed peering through the scope on her sniper. They’d been taking turns looking down the sights, but the girl was getting weary. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and sun. “I think we’re good here after this one,” Cat decided. “We just needed some extra caps to make sure we have enough ammo for the Super Duper Mart. Plus, now we have some dinner.” She smiles halfheartedly at her companion. 

The cuts of meat sat atop a large square cloth, already soaked through with blood. It was starting to trickle into a small pool, which Cat made a point to sit away from. It had taken roughly three hours to skin the animals, including the time it took to shoot and retrieve them. The skin was too dehydrated to cut in large squares, but you could always stitch leather together. Plus, it was easier to tan mole rat hide since it didn’t have fur. 

Really, it had been the meat that was tedious to deal with. It was tough, making for laborious, bloody work. The girl seemed to be somewhat disgusted by it, working slowly to make sure it didn’t soil her clothing. 

The hardest part was over. All they had to do now was bury whatever remained of the carcass to avoid attracting a more dangerous predator around Megaton; just the inedible organs, the bones, and the heads. Charon gently sets down the sniper and starts to dig a hole in the dirt nearby. His hands were already stained with blood, the dirt wouldn't bother him. 

The two worked silently, calm and focused. Soft music wafted through the speakers on the girl's wrist. The only other sound was a wild dog's mournful hour in the distance.  
It was almost... serene. 

Charon was in his element. Shotgun loaded and ready at a moment's notice. This is where he belonged. In the empty Wasteland with a gun and a purpose. It was all he ever needed. 

"I was thinking that we should split up to sell this stuff," Cat suggests offhandedly, interrupting his unusual moment of peace. “I’m going to try and barter a bit of the meat to the caravan merchant that should be here today—Hoff. I wanted to buy a few things from him anyway. Sometimes he has fruit; plus I wanted to pick up something nice for dinner.” 

The idea makes him uneasy but he can’t argue. ”Okay,” he grunts, after she’s done rambling. 

“Would you mind taking the rest to Jenny at the Brass Lantern? We’ve done this before—she’ll take however much she wants and the rest can go in the freezer at home.” She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck suddenly. “I, uh, also want to visit a friend before we do this Super Mart thing. Is that cool? It shouldn’t take so long.” 

Charon wondered why she'd sounded sheepish just then, but shrugged it off. “Yeah,” is all he had to say. 

“I guess you can wash up or make yourself lunch or something. Whatever you want to do. I have your ammo covered—I still have some caps left... We can just meet up at Springvale. It’s just a short walk from here, to the north. I’ll see you at the Megaton sign?” 

“Yeah,” he repeats. 

Whatever you want to do. 

What was that, anyway?

###  **CAT.**

“Cat, I’m so glad it’s you.” 

Silver hurriedly unlocked the door, ushering her in before shutting the door and fumbling to lock the door. Cat is puzzled but doesn’t ask. She could get paranoid sometimes on chems, but not usually like this. 

“Hey. Been a while huh?” Cat smiles crookedly, expecting Silver to press her lips against hers in her usual greeting. 

But she didn't. Silver was obviously agitated, with trembling fingers curled around her pistol. Right away, Cat notices the bruises on her face. 

Cat frowned instantly. "What happened, Silver?" She demanded. Silver wasn't brave—she wasn't one to pick a fight in the Wasteland. Someone attacked her. 

Silver couldn't meet her eyes. "This guy I was trying to score chems off of—couldn't be more than five minutes away. I... think Moriarty sent him to look for me around here.." She started in a horrified whisper.

Even without the occasional chem-induced paranoia, Silver lived in perpetual fear that Moriarty would find her. Cat felt a knot in her stomach. He's getting closer, she thought 

"—You killed him?" Cat interrupted. 

Silver looked down and nodded tiredly. "He didn't know I had a gun. He was.. going to..." 

She didn't finish her sentence. 

"Where?" Cat was all business. It was just fine to Silver. She obviously didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Silver led her to her to the place where he'd tried to strangle her. She hadn't bothered trying to bury him. The Wasteland creatures had already gotten to him. His intestines were spilling out of his open belly, and worms and flies infested his skin. Silver couldn't look, but Cat's eyes were fixed on his lifeless ones. He was a Megaton resident—a bar regular, at that. But she didn't need to know that. 

"I've never seen him before in Megaton," she lied, after a long silence. "He's just another Wasteland piece of shit. I don't think Moriarty sent him." This needed to be fixed, but she didn't want Silver to panic. Not yet, anyway. She just had to lie low for a while while Cat found a way to take care of this.

She didn't seem fully convinced, but she did appear to be a bit more relieved to hear that. Walking back home, Cat made it a point to sound more laid-back, as if the problem had been resolved. Silver had calmed down significantly, enough to joke with her a little. She even offered to share her last bottle of buffout with her, but Cat politely declined. It was generous of her, but she didn't want to get high before her trip to the Super Duper Mart. She wanted something else, anyway.

"Jet?" Silver asked, surprised. "Yeah, I mean—I have some." She had a bemused sort of smile, eyebrow cocked and eyes questioning. But Cat offered no explanation, and she didn't ask. She just took the caps and retrieved the chems. She'd always thought of Cat as almost a sort of goodie two shoes, and had always been amused by her drug habit. Even then, Cat always tried to stay away from the hard stuff and was very particular about dosage and regulating her level of addiction. She'd offered her psycho and similar chems a few times, but stopped prodding after being denied every time. Cat was a good customer, either way. She visited often and Silver seemed to enjoy her company. "Have fun," she said teasingly.

Cat just smiled in response, tucking away the inhalers into her bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long, everybody! Summer ended and my semester took me by storm. But I still made the effort to try to chip away at this. Hopefully next chapter doesn't take so long. Regardless, I'm already done with nearly half of the semester (thank goodness!)
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos, by the way. Oh, and the comments on this fic are so sweet! I really appreciate them!!


	8. Brahmin Shit

###  **CHARON.**

"This smells like Brahmin shit."

"That's because it is Brahmin shit," Charon said quietly. 

She tried to force a smile, but it faded quickly. She was trembling.

It was strange, Charon thought. It wasn't like it was her first kill. But then again, Cat had never planned on killing someone who'd never attacked her first. He had to admit, her request had taken him by surprise. He'd known her for less than two weeks, but it still seemed to be unlike her. She was his employer, though, and he'd die before she got herself killed. Reckless endangerment or otherwise.

A feminine voice interrupted the silence. Cat shoots him a panicked look. This wasn't part of the plan. Cat had anticipated the woman to be asleep by this time of night. Before she could scramble to hide, the door clicks open. Both parties freeze at the unexpected sight, equally stunned.

The redhead's eyes were wide. "Cat...? What are you doing in Moriarty's office?" Her voice is a frightened whisper. It was very much after hours. Any storekeeper was well within their right to kill trespassers.

Cat hadn't anticipated this. Before she could say a single word, a slurred Irish accent alerts them of Moriarty's presence. "Nova... Who th-fuck are ye talkin' t..."

They needed to act fast, while he wasn't yet fully aware of them. The girl pleads desperately with Nova. "Please, stay back," she implored.

The woman looks terrified now. Her mouth clamps shut and she cowers away into the office, eyes fixated on Charon. She probably assumed he would be the one to kill her. "Nova!" The drunk intones, more impatiently now. Before they could position themselves anywhere, Moriarty stumbles through the doorway. He was wavering and unfocused, but seemed to sober up quickly at the sight of the ghoul and the girl. "—What the _fuck_?" He exclaimed.

The ghoul lunges forward before he could grab a hold of Cat. Moriarty yelps in anger as Charon wrestles him to the ground. Nova gasps and scrambles to the furthest corner of the office, away from the two men. He's unsteady enough to knock to the ground in one clean sweep. Before he could let out a cry for help, Charon jams the edge of a small knife against his carotid artery. "Make a sound and I'll bleed you," the ghoul growls softly.

Moriarty froze. His wild eyes were fixed on the girl as she finally moves forward. Sweat beaded her forehead, but her expression was cold.

"You're not going to get away with this, you fucking junkie." he hissed, not daring to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper. "Everybody knows you're unstable." _What?_ Charon doesn't know what to make of his threats, but Cat doesn't respond. She looks solemnly at the ghoul; this situation could very soon turn to shit. The knife was a bluff. Neither of them wanted to slit his throat. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. And on top of it all, now they had a witness.

Cat quickly take Moriarty's pistol from his holster, eliciting a whimper of fear from the prostitute a few feet away. He knows it makes the girl feel guilty, but she doesn't react visibly. Cat presses her knee over the arm Charon wasn't holding down and pinches Moriarty's nose shut before jamming the mouth of the inhaler past his lips. He chokes and sputters in the jet fumes, letting out muffled curses while he fights helplessly against their combined weight. One by one, she empties the containers of jet, ignoring his garbled pleas. A icy look had hardened over Cat's focused expression. Charon watched her as she sprayed the chems down his throat, waited for him to gasp it in for a few seconds, and then methodically repeated the process until the inhalers were empty.

Within moments, the last inhaler was drained. Moriarty wheezed for air as the chems invaded his bloodstream. As far as he knew, both of them knew little about chem overdose. They'd probably each stumbled across their fair share of raiders and Wastelanders who'd shot themselves up with lethal doses of their choice chem, but he didn't think either of them had seen the entire process. There may have been chem addicts that frequented the Ninth Circle, but ghouls had a hardy resistance to overdosing and he didn't think any of those degenerates had the caps nor the willpower to collect enough chems to kill themselves.

Moriarty had struggled violently during the first forced inhalations, but he was no threat now.

Cat and Charon backed away, leaving him to weakly clutch as his chest in breathless panic. He couldn't choke out more then the words _"—You bitch"_ in between his throes of agony. Nova had inched closer to watch in quiet awe as vomit foamed from his lips and his limbs seized violently. She seemed more mesmerized than alarmed. Perhaps it was slowly dawning on her that her indentured servitude was soon to be over. 

It didn't take more than a minute for Moriarty's heart to finally give out on him. Charon was filled with disgust as the dying man choked out his last, heaving breaths in a puddle of his own vomit and drool. His pathetic life was finally over.

The room was silent for a long, tense moment before Cat finally spoke. "Nova, hide these in his room." She instructs, procuring a few more inhalers of jet. The redhead is hesitant but takes the chems without dissent. 

Nothing more needed to be said. Nova doesn't ask and Cat doesn't explain. They exit through the backdoor of Moriarty's office. _Not his anymore._ , he thought.

"Let's go," Cat says softly to Charon. It was too dark to see her expression.

He can't tell whether she was tormented or relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I was worried I may have rushed this chapter a bit (I'm very inexperienced with action, so that doesn't help) but I really wanted to start moving the plot along. I felt so bad that I took such a long break on this fic! Plus, I'd rather slightly rush a chapter over waiting weeks perfecting one during the rare occasions I have free time. Hopefully it's still interesting!


	9. Booze

Cat couldn't sleep for hours. She blew through almost half of her mentats stash trying to get high enough to burn the image of Moriarty's bulging, lifeless eyes out of her mind.

She knew it was reckless. She had a _method_. The one thing that separated her from a raider junkie was restraint, and she wasn't showing it now. _Tonight is a special occasion,_ she reasoned to nobody in particular.

It was a dreamless sleep — a rare treat. Nearly any other night would have brought a frightening new nightmare with it.

Cat wakes up to Charon that morning. She's too tired to question it, at first. She was kind of used to waking up next to him, honestly.

She blinks sleepily up at the ghoul's serious face. "You friends are here," he announces quietly. 

Suddenly awake, Cat remembers what happened the night before. What _she_ did. Cat pales at the realization. She wonders where Moriarty's body was now.

"Kid," Cat hears him say. She faces him again, eyes wide and replete with terror. "You need to act like everything is fine; even if it isn't."

It was blunt, but he was sincere... Gentle, even. She never thought that word would apply to him,

Cat nods. She needed to get her shit together.

The girl dresses in a silent rush, zipping into her jumpsuit in less than a minute. She combs her hair with her fingers as she rushes downstairs to meet her unsolicited guests, with Charon following suit.

Wadsworth is hovering anxiously at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. Change made him uneasy. It certainly was an unusual day already. Judging from the sunlight streaming from the cracks in the roof, it was already past dawn. Somehow, Cat had overslept.

“I put a kettle to boil for our guests, Miss Cat.” Wadsworth declared, using their compromised name for her. (She disliked _‘Madame’_ ardently).

She nods without even looking at him. Cat didn’t mean to be dismissive, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Her gaze softened at the sight of Gob’s patchwork, tear-stricken face. 

“Gob…” 

She’d never seen him outside the saloon before. Gob rushes forward to embrace her; she can feel him trembling against her. 

“He’s dead, Cat,” he blurts after a long, tense silence. “Moriarty’s dead.” 

Cat can feel Nova’s watchful eyes on her, waiting for her response. She lets the words linger before she feigns her ignorance. “What?” She asks unthinkingly. Cat regrets that response immediately, but Gob is too emotional to care. 

Gob explains, somewhat inarticulately, that Moriarty had overdosed on Jet. Gob was always the first awake to clean the bar before sunrise. He’d noticed his office door was uncharacteristically open and, well, just happened upon him. He told Nova, they told Simms. He questioned the two for a short time and told them they were free to go while he examined the corpse.

“Cat, where’s your booze?” Nova interrupts, with a trace of disgust in her bored voice. She wanted to skip the charade, and Cat was grateful for it.

Cat’s relieved, but isn’t sure how to respond appropriately. "At quarter past six?”

The redhead glares sullenly. “What? Never heard of putting whiskey in your coffee?” She asks defensively. “Plus, we need to celebrate.”

She couldn’t argue with that. As far as Gob knew, the bastard choked on his own vomit while he was overdosing on Jet. It was unexpected, but at least it wasn’t unbelievable. Moriarty was an alcoholic, and nobody would put him past using chems either. 

Gob looks a bit surprised, but doesn’t object. Cat eventually nods and leaves to procure her liquor. She knew she had vodka. Maybe she has some rum? That would work, right? Cat drank a lot when she was seventeen and starting to get access into storage areas around the Vault as Stanley’s assistant, but she hadn’t really even thought about it since she’d left. It was so strange… That seemed like so long ago, but really, it was just that so much happened in so little time. Then, her only real interest was bribing her way into the Tunnel Snakes and her romantic conquests—now, all she cared about were whether she and her father could survive another day.

She returns with cups of coffee and the bottle of rum; not full, but it seemed like enough. “My finest rum,” she announced, placing the items on the table. “Aged at least two centuries,” Cat joked halfheartedly.

Nova is unimpressed. Charon doesn’t react (as predicted), but Wadsworth indulges her with an insincere, motorized laugh and Gob kind of chuckled nervously. She just wanted to stifle the silence, but it already bled back into the air like a heavy fog. Things were, understandably, tense. 

Cat feels obliged to liven the mood. At least for Gob. This was his first day of freedom, after all. He deserved a better start than this.

“Gob, I want you to have my jukebox.” She says, suddenly and impetuously. Before he could deny out of politeness, she adds, “You need it. For your saloon.”

He seemed touched. The ghoul’s eyes watered with happy tears as he sputtered for words. Eventually, he settled on a croaky, “Thank you.”

Nova smirked secretively at her. At least she knew that Cat genuinely loved Gob. He was in her thoughts during Moriarty’s last breaths.  
Charon looked at her wordlessly. Was he surprised? Cat couldn’t tell. That jukebox _was_ one of her most prized possessions. Cat sweat for every cap but it was completely worth it. Music was one of her only sources of entertainment, both in the Wasteland and in the Vault (although she considered the former’s to be far superior). She couldn’t imagine what else she would do while she walked miles into the Capitol Wasteland. The quiet was… deafening.

“Hey Wads, could you show him how to use the jukebox?” She asked in a desperate attempt to alleviate the silence in her own home.

Wadsworth waved a mechanical limb genially. “After you, kind sir,” he told Gob.

A smile of excitement spreads through Gob’s face. He’d never been upstairs before (or anywhere in this house before this morning, for that matter); nor had he probably ever been called “kind sir” before. A lot of firsts for Gob today. He touches Cat’s arm in a shy gesture of gratitude before rushing up the stairs.

Nova immediately begins to spike their coffee; it’s an excessive amount, of course. She notes Charon observing Nova pour the liquor. Maybe he noticed Cat didn’t drink very often, although she wasn’t exactly abstemious by choice. He’d probably just noticed that she valued it more as a survival tool (since she typically only used it as an antiseptic or in lieu of anesthesia).

With Gob out of earshot, Nova drops what little pretense of happiness she had. “You know, Cat... Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but do you know what the fuck you did?”

The redhead said it so coolly that it took Cat a second to process what she said. Cat is too lost for words to make a coherent response.

“You think everything’s over, don’t you?” She stirs her drink with a finger, making sure not to break eye contact with Cat. “Killing Moriarty was just the beginning. You think that shitstain didn’t have friends?”

Three Dog’s voice erupted through the otherwise silent room from upstairs. Gob would be back any second now.

Charon’s eyes are focused intently on the redhead. He doesn’t seem angry yet, but he’s got a look in his eyes that he gets before a fight.  
Nova doesn’t even bat an eye at the intensity of it. “What I’m saying is, you wanna do us a favor? Fucking end what you started.”

With that, Nova seemed to finish her point. She sits on the table in front of where Cat was sitting on the sofa, as if the previous interaction had never taken place; Nova was already taking a long drink as Gob bound down the stairs, happily oblivious.


End file.
